He was in shock, his sons and his mother, all dead by his sword. He lay down and started to cry. As he lay down and cried, the crack of that rifle got closer and closer. It was also now accompanied by the lighter crack of assault rifles and shotguns. There were many screams now, almost one every moment, and the fire got more intense, he could now hear footsteps, but they sounded more human, with combat boots rather than the soles of feet and torn shoes.
He saw them, what looked like six royal marines. Three had SA80's (the standard weapon at the start of the outbreak), one had what looked like a tactical shotgun, and the other two had sniper rifles. Behind them trailed around fifty civilians, but they were being mauled left, right and centre. They got to Joe, they picked him up and dragged him about two hundred metres into a block of flats that Joe had neglected to notice.
When he saw they were in the building, he saw only the marines and him, the other civilians where banging on the surprisingly thick glass door. The marine with the shotgun fired slugs into a part where one of the small windows had not been closed. This causes various giblets to coat the carpet, the man's flak jacket and the window. " Shut that f***ing window, Greg" said one of the men with an SA80, he had a very large mutton chops for a beard and a very long, very thick nose that dominated most of his lower face. "Yes sir" a very young, estuary English accent rang out. He couldn't have been older than twenty years old, his moustache very slight above his mouth, a couple of black strands on his face.
As Joe got up, he began to notice that the window was beginning to crack, he looked for his wakizashi, he still had it, lucky for him he had an arm band. The mutton chopped man shouted "get up stairs now, they're breaking through. Everybody did just that, save one of the SA80 gunners, who stood at the door. The door gave in to the pounding of one thousands fists, and a tidal wave of infected broke forth. The man sprayed randomly with his gun and moved back very slowly. By then I decided enough was enough and legged it up the stairs.
"S**t" said the mutton chopped guy. "grab all the furniture you can and block the way". The young one with the shotgun dragged a large sofa and pushed it down the stairs. The ghouls heard it. "for god's sake Doyle, that's the 3rd time today you've got us in deep s**t" said bearded SA80 gunner, loading a new clip and cocking, ready for them. "yes sergeant Steve" said Doyle, clearly very angry at his sergeant and the infected in general.
Around 200 rushed up the short stairs. The Marines were now all firing at automatic save the snipers. After a couple of seconds they started to overwhelm them, it was very clear it was far larger than two hundred. I looked around for an escape route, an emergency staircase. I ran down it, hearing the sounds of small arms fire and the eerily human screams of the marines. I heard footsteps behind me, and Steve barking "Doyle, seal that door, we only have a wee bit of time". "Yes sir" he responded. He sealed the door with a fire Axe he found next to it.
There were still screams erupting from the build about 30 seconds after the door was sealed, meaning the infected hadn't noticed our escape. Doyle sat, loading some more shells into his gun. Steve sat down, looking at me with both anger and relief. "If it wasn't for you, we would be one of them by now, but what's left of the army in South Yorkshire Is dead, save a couple in the airbase in Sheffield. "What Finningley sir?" Doyle asked. "Of course" said Steve.